


wished away entire lifetimes

by Astoria



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Awkwardness, Enjolras has troubles communicating, M/M, but fluff, more angsty than I'd thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2892428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astoria/pseuds/Astoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Enjolras nearly sent a text to Grantaire and the 1 time he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wished away entire lifetimes

**I**

Enjolras needed to convey his feelings, to have some kind of closure, of release from his antsy agitated state. But he couldn’t- not really, because that meant opening his heart and facing a very probable rejection and, yes he could be brave, the bravest of all in some situations, but that usually was in situations where his fists could play a role, where his voice and his logic and his wits were essential and well trained.

His feelings were no-man’s land.

They were rare and intense too. Usually destroyed everything else, and he was overcome with it. He didn’t like to dwell on it.

People didn’t believe him when he told them conversationally he was an introvert. After all, he was the one talking to crowds, raising hope with the intonation of his voice. He was the one who would try and recruit people at the entrance of university. He was the first one to speak against the administration when it would do something wrong.

He was always speaking and seeking contact, because he loved people and he genuinely, wholeheartedly believed in them.

But—Jesus Christ, was it exhausting. It all drained him physically, emotionally and mentally. This is why he needed at the very least two days per month when he could be truly and completely disconnected from everything and be blissfully alone. He needed that for his sanity. For being better, for doing better.

The thing was, his feelings were _there._

And it was hard not to dwell on them because it hurt quite literally: his stomach was burning like the time Courfeyrac challenged him to pick the spiciest dish at this Indian restaurant near the cabaret Jehan liked to go to.

And his hands were sweating like the time he had disappointed Combeferre and he just didn’t know _what_ it had been about and Combeferre was still giving him the silent treatment (terrifying 0/10 would not recommend).

And his heart was doing weird things Joly would have directly catalogued as heart problems.

And the most embarrassing part of it all was that he would unpredictably giggle and smile so much his cheeks turned red when he would think about _him_. Like the time Marius had met Cosette.

Enjolras did not want to look like Marius for a lot of reasons. They had become friends even though Enjolras still found some of Marius’ beliefs problematic but he would not be willingly cruel to him.

As cruel as he was with _him._

His feelings were hard to ignore and his fingers were twitching for his phone. An old cell phone which could not take pictures and which worked one out of two times. It mostly did the job so why would he change it?

It was his rest-away-from-the-world day though, and the simple thought of pouring his feelings via a text was nauseating. He felt like even if it was a normal day of socialising, he would not be able to.

That was kind of cowardly too, sending things through text messages. Important things like _‘Hey I really like you, wanna go on a date?’_. No. Just no.

But it was really tempting. Throwing his feelings out there without having to face the consequences immediately, that was very tempting. It also meant he could not see _his_ face, or his expression, or the tone of his voice and he would never know the truth of the situation.

He was even more appealed to do anything but study because he had to read Freud’s works, and let’s just say he had complained loudly and vehemently to his professor who had only sighed and reminded him it was in the curriculum.

He hesitated a few more minutes, reading for the fifth time a synonym for penis, and he grabbed his phone. He scrolled down his contacts and there was his number.

Enjolras had never actually asked Grantaire for his number, but maybe he had listened when he was giving it to someone else and he had never actually sent a text or called him.

Their relationship was just not one where texts were flowing. Nothing was flowing between them except maybe anger and shouts. Oh, how he felt extremely bad the days that ended up with them shouting at the top of their lungs about issues that Enjolras knew they were not so divided on.

He turned on his phone and started typing. _‘Hey, want to grab a coffee at the café you like?’_

His hand was shaking, his stomach was doing somersault. No, he could not do it. He erased it.

 

 

**II**

This Wednesday had been particularly hot considering the season and the rain that had persisted all week long, and les Amis had decided to organise an impromptu picnic at the jardin des Tuileries like tourists (except they knew where to go to not be harrassed by the growing rat population.) .

Enjolras had _once_ in his entire life made the mistake of admitting in front of his friends that he was not a big fan of the sun in general (ok he had said he hated it with a passion…) and he will always remember the looks of complete horror that had crossed their faces. Courfeyrac, Bossuet and Joly had especially taken the news hard.

It was like that time in _Friends_ where Chandler had admitted hating dogs. (and yes Enjolras was rather up to date with pop culture no matter what _he_ said)

It was just, hot and he would sweat, also very sunny and Enjolras’ eyes would hurt and he could not even work on his computer because for some reason every ray of sunshine entering his flat would decide that ‘nope no screens for you mate’.

So he hated it. Grantaire on the contrary, because of course, loved it. He was basking in the sun like a content cat, sunglasses set on the tip of his nose and a smile showing his teeth in place. He was wearing a tight black tee shirt even though it was probably a little too tight over his lower stomach. He was a sportive guy but he had always had a round stomach. Enjolras loved it so much, he wanted to run his hand over it and feel the warm softness. That probably felt like safety.

Grantaire saw him watching him intently and raised an eyebrow. Enjolras blushed and lowered his eyes, embarrassed at being caught.

“What, you think I don’t know about my paunch? It’s there that’s all. Everybody can’t look like Greek statues, my dear.” Grantaire spat out with a mean smile.

He didn’t know why he didn’t shut up at this moment because Grantaire was unmistakably self-conscious about his appearance, but he needed to make him understand that he didn’t find it disagreeable but, au contraire, extremely endearing and everybody else was boring and invisible to him anyway.

However it was Enjolras and Grantaire: everything the one said, the other misunderstood. It ended as always in a fight and Grantaire leaving.

That night Enjolras wrote him a text. ‘ _I want to kiss your stomach.’_

Of course he erased it.

 

 

**III**

The discussions they had could make Enjolras smile for days. There was something about the thrum in his veins when he was talking to him. The thing was, the topic could be of the weather and Enjolras would listen avidly because he had a way with words, a way Enjolras possessed only about politics.

But Grantaire could turn every snippet of life into a cloak and dagger novel or a humoristic one man show. His words would roll around images and surround them with flowers or a thorny vine and seldom without the touch of an artistic and sarcastic paintbrush.

He was so interesting and Enjolras was so so scared of losing his interest. Enjolras who had troubles communicating sometimes. Enjolras who would need a break in his day without any socialising. Enjolras who was sometimes unable to talk about anything else but things that angered him.

He didn’t want Grantaire to find him boring. That didn’t mean he would do crazy things to attract his attention. He didn’t want to change and even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to.

When he was browsing books at his favourite old library, he wrote a text to Grantaire. _‘I found the perfect book for you, and I would love to talk about it with you, because I am sure your analysis will be even more fascinating than the book itself.’_

He didn’t even finish typing it before erasing it.

 

 

**IV**

Everything was fine. Grantaire was an alluring man. He was bound to attract people, like he had attracted Enjolras.

It was fine.

He could only watch, and drink alcohol. Because what else could you do when your heart was breaking for the first time?

The next morning, despite his headache, he typed _‘I really wish you hadn’t kissed that girl last night. You could have kissed me.’_

He could not believe he had written that. He erased it, shame making its way under his ribs.

 

 

  **V**

His friends told him rather abruptly but in good humour that his crush was extremely noticeable. Enjolras’ head shot up straight to check, for the umpteenth time, that Grantaire was nowhere in sight before begging them to shut up about it.

“It’s not like I was completely oblivious about my predicament. But anyway, what can you do, right?” Enjolras shrugged and drank his double espresso.

“Is he serious? Are you serious?” Cosette asked seriously. “You can do a lot of things about it!”

“As much as I find your own love story worthy of a Disney film, may I remind you the real world isn’t really like that. At least not for me.” He avoided looking in their eyes, scared of what he would find there.

They kept talking all afternoon about things that were not Enjolras’ pining and he was immensely relieved about it. He was happy to have his friends by his side and he was also glad they knew because it meant Grantaire had to know about it too and the lack of moves on his part confirmed quite clearly the verdict of the one sided love.

But at the end of the day Courfeyrac hugged him and told him to “Go for it, after all what have you got to lose?”

He placated him with one of his famous stares, the one that screamed ‘Buuuulshit’. “Oh I don’t know? My dignity? My budding and fragile friendship with him? Too much at stake, here, I’d really rather not.”

Courfeyrac himself had famous stares and he was not afraid to use them. “Enjolras.” He sighed his name and Enjolras wanted to cry because it meant so much and he understood and he was tired. But he couldn’t do it, could he? They hugged for a long time.

As soon as he got home he typed. _‘Your smile is quite crooked, I love it, and I just want to see you smile and kiss you, is that wrong?’_

His finger hovered during some atrocious seconds on the send button. He was a coward for the things that mattered in the end. He erased it.

 

 

**+1**

Grantaire wanted to cut his hair and Enjolras was in love with him.

Grantaire was smiling more and more every day and Enjolras was in love with him.

Grantaire was toying with his overgrown hair while talking animatedly to five different people at the same time and Enjolras was in love with him.

That hurt way more than he had anticipated. He was always searching to meet his eyes even against his own accord. His ears were always straining to recognise the deep velvet tone Grantaire possessed. His mouth was always kind of mimicking his mouth for whatever reason. His fingers were always splayed in the direction of Grantaire’s fingers.

Maybe he knew, maybe he didn’t. The point was he hadn’t said or done a thing that could have revealed anything. It was torture to be in this purgatory: not knowing if it was reciprocated or not and hoping against all odd it was.

Their relationship had become easy and comfortable. Yes, sure, Enjolras still had troubles being near him for a long period of time and they would sometimes raise their voices but overall it was easy and nice and Enjolras, although he complained a lot, had never been this happy.

Weirdly this did not mean his job and the club perished because of Enjolras’ other occupation. No, if anything the works were done more thoroughly because it meant spending more time with the group artist: Grantaire.

Enjolras was in the restroom of Le Musain when he grabbed his phone and typed, as became his habit, a text for Grantaire. It was simple and yet meant everything ‘ _I really like your hair.’_

He smiled and went to erase it but his old, badly functioning phone decided that ‘nope I’m simply going to ruin your life you big loser’ and sent the message.

“Oh nononon _onono_ why. Why me. Oh no.” Enjolras repeated while turning around on himself. He distantly noticed that he had scared off a guy who had preferred to leave the restroom and its weird inhabitant.

He had sent the message. The message was ‘ _I really like your hair.’_ That was not too incriminating, was it? Oh who was he kidding, that was basically a love confession.

Wait no, it was just about hair. And it was in the context as he was just talking about cutting his hair, so it was perfectly ok. Right? _Right?_ But even if it was some kind of delayed answer to the conversation it was too bizarre to send it via text and especially only that.

He wanted to look at it again, to reassure or to torture himself he didn’t know but his phone buzzed rudely and Enjolras lost his grip on it and it fell in the toilet. Water splashed and he was almost satisfied to see the stupid device drowning. Almost being the key word: he needed his phone even if he had made a complete ass of himself and also he would have to put his hand _inside_ the ‘roughly never’ cleaned toilets according to Musichetta.

He did it and only spent five minutes vigorously washing his hand in the sink with the shrivelled old soap that had turned into a peculiar green colour years ago. He refused to feel sorry when he tried to turn on his phone and it didn’t because after all, how could he ever come face to face with Grantaire without wanting to melt into a puddle of awkwardness?

Still he needed to resurface because that had been a more than thirty minute’s pause and he was sure everybody had noticed his absence.

He went back into the café’s cosy rooms and settled between Courfeyrac and Combeferre. He was fine. He was only looking at Grantaire when he was sure he wasn’t looking back. He didn’t seem to be more interested by Enjolras than usual, which was good no? (his heart was screaming no, his head yes)

That was when he realised Grantaire probably didn’t have his number. After all he had gotten Grantaire’s not by asking directly but by gleaning the information around. He had never actually used it so Grantaire didn’t have Enjolras’ number.

Oh sweet lord have mercy Enjolras could have cried of happiness.

 

The next day he made plans to buy a new phone and he was almost at the door on his way out when someone knocked. Enjolras haphazardly made a bun of his long blond hair in a nervous reflex and went to open the door.

Grantaire was there.

Grantaire with his woollen beanie full of lint and his black curly hair and his dark kind eyes.

“Uh hello.” He could do this, yep, he could do this.

“Uh hi. Yeah, euh.” Grantaire stopped and Enjolras had stopped breathing.

“Do you want to come in maybe, I don’t know?”

“Yeah, yeah ok.” He made a move to come in and backed away immediately. “Uh actually maybe not. I don’t know.”

God, could this encounter be more awkward? He didn’t think so.

“Ok, fine. Euh, did you want something in particular?”

Grantaire looked like he was steeling himself somehow and Enjolras didn’t like that one bit. “I came to ask you a question.”

He made no move to keep going but fixed Enjolras with a knowing look. “Oh?”

“Yeah, ok, euh did you send me a text yesterday afternoon?”

Enjolras was sure his face was as white as the time he had passed out at a protest. He literally felt all his blood leaving his body and he was practically sure he was floating in the sky far from the consequences of his acts.

“I’m only asking because, ok, I found it rather strange coming from you? And also I answered and you never answered so I was, I don’t know I guess, wondering? Yes wondering what had happened? And also maybe I scared you with my message?” Grantaire sounded like everything was a question but at the same time he knew with confidence what he was saying. That was dizzying.

Enjolras came back on earth and nearly hyperventilated with the deep breath he took. “I might have maybe made a huge mistake.”

Grantaire deflated visibly. “Ah I figured, I mean, let’s be serious. Ok, um, my query was answered so I can just like, euh, go away far. Far from here preferably.”

Enjolras ignored the pinch in his heart at the last sentence and barrelled on. “I did send that message.”

“I got that. You also said it was a huge mistake. I got it, it’s fine.” Grantaire was touching his beanie in a nervous movement, his eyes were downcast and his mouth pulled down. Enjolras wanted to reach out and kiss him gently so he wouldn’t be upset anymore. But what was he upset about anyway?

“No you don’t get it, do you?” Enjolras tugged on his hair in frustration. His feelings were bubbling to the surface and he was ready to explode. “I am such a coward and texting you, no _pretending_ to text you was an outlet for me and my feelings. I would write stupid little things I would notice about you or big chunks of your personality that made me happy, really, stupidly happy. And every time without fault I would erase them. Because, I am me and you are you and it is so difficult but so easy too, you know?

Maybe you don’t. I am surely living in a fantasy land like you love to remind me. But honestly I like you, no I love you, no I am in love with you and I am sorry.” He finished and he realised he was crying.

Grantaire was crying too and he panicked and tried to reassure him that obviously he didn’t have any obligation and could he please forget about it all?

But no, no, he had been too self-centred in his affection. Grantaire was feeling the same way and had been for the longest of time. Enjolras was floating in the sky again, he couldn’t feel his face and he was sure his cheeks were going to be strained tomorrow because of the beaming smile adorning his face.

 

Enjolras could pass his hand through his curls as much as he wanted to and didn’t refrain from the opportunity. Then he was able to taste his lips slowly. They were warm and humid and tasted so much like cigarettes but also mint and weirdly, like Enjolras’ favourite chocolates that were too sugary but that he loved indulging in. Grantaire would let slip those breathy moans that made Enjolras’ knees weak every time and he would always chase after his lips as if he was thirsty and could not get enough. That would make Enjolras smile happily and as a result Grantaire would smile too.

He kissed him everywhere and paid special attention to his stomach, as a revenge for the desire that had been nipped in the bud. Grantaire blushed and said he was embarrassed. Enjolras fixed him with one of his famous stares and showed him exactly how he loved his body. After that Grantaire offered himself to Enjolras’ hungry curiosity.

Afterwards, lying in bed they talked about a little bit of everything when the subject went to books and Enjolras mentioned the book he thought would have been perfect for him. Turned out he had already read it and they argued about it for an hour and a half before making love again.

 

Later when he bought a new phone and discovered his old chip had not actually died in the miserable sinking accident, he put it in his brand new mobile. It immediately buzzed to life and displayed the last conversation.

 

Me: ‘ _I really like your hair.’_

Grantaire: ‘ _I really like your everything.’_

His boyfriend was a sap.

**Author's Note:**

> From the tumblr prompt: enjolras typing out text after text to grantaire but always deleting them and never sending them until he accidentally presses send on one that just says “i really like your hair” and then he throws the phone away from himself in a state of complete panic
> 
> Can't find the link!


End file.
